A Venetian Affair
by LeahBunny
Summary: Scipio has lost everything - his lover, his reputation amongst the Stella, and now he's on the verge of losing the one thing that just might save him. Can Prosper help him learn to trust again? Scipio/Prosper. Rated T for later chapters.


Disclaimer: I do not own The Thief Lord or the characters, nor am I receiving any financial benefit from this.

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Riccio gave Scipio an angry stare. "Just get lost, okay? We don't need help from a liar."

Scipio put on a mock innocent face and looked around. "Oh, but you didn't mind this liar when he was saving your sorry ass? Or spoon – feeding you cough syrup and broth when you were so sick you couldn't even get out of bed?"

Riccio gritted his teeth. He shot Scipio a deathly glare, and in return Scipio ran a finger down his face, mimicking tears. Riccio clenched his hands into fists and narrowed his eyebrows, but made no other movement.

Scipio looked around the room, in his eyes a silent plea for help. He couldn't believe it – he helped these kids to an extreme! He stole from his own father and even ran here in the ice cold rain to warn them about the snoop. Yet the only one who met his gaze was Prosper.

"Fine", he muttered, and strutted by Riccio, heading for the door when Riccio shoulder checked him, hard. Scipio stumbled but caught his balance, and gave Riccio a long, dark look, staring into his deep chocolate eyes.

"Get over yourself," he whispered. "It's not going to happen again."

That's when something in Riccio snapped. He blinked away the tears starting to form in his eyes and lunged. "Fuck you, Scipio!" he yelled, fists turning into claws as he swiped madly.

Scipio, quick on his feet, slammed into Riccio and knocked him flat on his back. The younger boy gasped for breath, his oxygen stolen by the fall. Scipio took advantage of Riccio's helplessness and sat on his stomach so he wouldn't escape, then punched Riccio square in the nose.

Hornet gasped and covered her mouth. Riccio wiped the blood away from his nose and grabbed Scipio's shoulders, making them both roll.

"This feels a little familiar, don't you think?" Scipio hissed into Riccio's ears. Riccio involuntarily bared his teeth and dug his nails into Scip's pale face.

Hornet had had enough. She grabbed Riccio and managed to throw him off, however, Prosper was able to land one more blow to Riccio's jaw in the process. Prosper quickly yanked Scipio by the arm, pulling him back onto his makeshift bed.

Both of the boys were panting heavily, and in all the excitement no one noticed poor Bo, quietly sobbing at the sight of Riccio's nose, dripping with blood.

Prosper touched Scipio's hand lightly, then quickly scampered to Bo's mattress.

"Shh, Bo. I'm here," he purred to his little brother, petting his angel hair. He looked up sadly to Hornet, who was trying to temporarily mend the scruffy boy's nose.

Hornet let out an exasperated sigh.

"Scipio, maybe… maybe you should just go. We'll let you know when we're meeting the Conte."

Riccio snorted. "Hornet! Are you mad?" he started, but quickly stopped seeing Hornet's stony face looking down on him.

Scipio stood up, fixing his clothes. His face was raw and red from Riccio's long nails. He caught Prosper's eye, who subtly mouthed the words "Accademia Bridge, midnight?"

Scip gave a curt nod and turned back to Hornet.

"You _will_ let me know, right?" he mumbled. Horned nodded a quick yes. With that, the tall boy slunk towards the exit of the Stella, letting the door slam on his way out.

Mosca, who had been quiet the whole fight, looked down at his hands. "What a rat."

Hornet placed a gentle hand on Mosca's shoulder, but it didn't shake the uncomfortable feeling of Scipio being gone.

Slowly, they all made their beds, while Hornet poured each of them a cup of hot cocoa, "expertly stolen from the shop in Piazza San Marco." They all knew the unfortunate truth of where the drink came from now.

One by one, they drifted off to sleep, Bo first, being the youngest and all. Then Riccio, tossing and turning in his bed. Mosca's eyes finally closed, and a short while after that, Prosper could hear the muffled snores of Hornet.

Excited, but with confusion blurring his thoughts, he slipped on his shoes and ran out into the night, dark as Mosca's skin. He looked up at the stars twinkling, and swallowed hard.

"Oh Scipio," he muttered to himself, "don't give up on me. I promise I'm different." Prosper shook his brown hair out of his eyes and began walking, the moonlight guiding him towards his forbidden lover.

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